Morsill
by NameInBullets
Summary: Cori is happy with mediocrity, but someone else has other plans. Cursed to live in Middle-Earth, she is taken in by Wood Elves and believes she is going insane. As if that's not enough, she soon discovers that some of her decisions can heavily affect the works of J.R.R. Tolkien. Slight AU, based on both books and films, set before the events in The Hobbit. M for violence
1. SummaryDisclaimer

'_What do they say? What do your stories of us say happened here?' Legolas asked, frantically, more frightened than she'd ever seen him. Cori shook her head._

'_I don't know – this was never part of any of them,'_

Cori is average. She has a fairly average life, average looks, average weight, average friends, goes for a few drinks at the pub after a week of work, and is content with her life of mediocrity. Someone else seems to have bigger plans for her, though.

Haunted by memories of fire, she finds herself in a place that can't possibly exist in reality – Middle-Earth. Taken in by Wood Elves, she is left questioning her sanity to the point of "just going with it". Until she finds out that sometimes, "just going with it" can lead to dramatic changes in the original stories of J.R.R. Tolkien – couples never married, children never born, meetings never made. And when these events change the stories, Middle-Earth's fate is changed.

Oh, and as if preserving canon isn't enough, there are things that were never featured in the original stories; dark things of pure evil, stirring in the shadows and casting fear and suspicion.

'_Hiding in the hills and waiting this out was never an option. You must follow your heart and instincts, and be there to stop things, or force things to happen. If you do not, Middle-Earth will fall, and she Shadow may even reach your own home,' he told her. Cori shook her head._

'_I can't do this,' she told him, 'I never wanted to be a hero. I just want to be normal.'_

_**I do not own the works of John R.R. Tolkien, nor any characters, events, or places featured originally in his Middle-Earth legendarium.**_

_**This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.**_


	2. Dying

**CHRISTCHURCH, NEW ZEALAND  
January 13th, 2013**

'Okay, I'm done,'

Cori stabbed the last of the bobby pins back into the cushion, as her supervisor examined the dress.

'Was this all you?' Jackson Everett asked her. Cori shook her head.

'Luce and I stayed up; I did a lot of the bodice and upper half, but Lucy sourced the fabrics and did the skirt and back design,'

'Yes,' Jackson turned the dummy around, looking at the style, 'The design people seem to forget sometimes – clothing covers both back _and_ front,'

Cori smiled. Lucy was having some family problems at the moment, and had actually left early the previous night, asking Cori to cover for her. This probably counted as "covering" for her.

'_That_ looks marvelous!'

Jackson and Cori turned to see one of the design department supervisors – his name escaped Cori's memory at that moment. He approached them, inspecting the dress, and grinned at Jackson.

'Knew I could trust you lot to get it right,' he said. Jackson gestured to Cori.

'This is the woman behind it,'

'_One of_,' she corrected, 'Lucy worked on it as well,'

'This is gorgeous,' the design supervisor looked at her, 'You look about the same size as Eva; you'd be a good model,'

'Little bit wider around the waist,' Cori told him, 'And slightly shorter.'

'It's already crossed my mind a few times, too,' Jackson told him. He turned to Cori, 'Okay, rack this one up and get those battle costumes to the set; there's been a change in the schedule,'

'Again?' Cori sighed, grabbing the dress and stripping it off the dummy, 'They do know it affects everyone when they change those bloody schedules, don't they?'

It was true; a film set was often run to a tight schedule, and if there was even a five-minute deviation, the planning of the entire day often had to change. The latest one was a result of a five-minute delay, which meant that instead of shooting one particular scene, they had to shoot a different scene, which often meant different costumes.

Cori stowed the dress away in a garment bag, before scanning through the racks of Dwarvish costume.

Cori had been reading the _Lord of the Rings_ and _The Hobbit_ books since she was a kid. She'd received them as a gift for her ninth Christmas, and her father had read them to her as a bedtime story. She had tried to talk her older sister, Nikita, into reading them as well, but Nikita had always tried to act too mature for her age, always interested in boys and shopping and other things while Cori, two years younger, had always had more of a mind for high fantasy and fictional worlds.

Natura ally, as a long-time Tolkien fan, working on the set of _The Hobbit_ films was a sort of dream come true for her – sure, she wasn't exactly a fashion addict, but she had an eye for clothing design and had been sewing a lot of her own clothing since her mother had taught her when she was seven. Costume paid alright, and it was long hours most of the time, but she met at least one of the major actors each day, and she'd struck up a close friendship with the stunt doubles, as they often were present for fittings instead of the actors.

'I need to get to the battle scene set,' she told Joey, one of the buggy drivers. He was a teenager who was out of school for the holidays, and his father had gotten him the task of driving the buggies around the set, conveying various crew members between locations – and usually at high speeds. Ever since the Director had taken his first (and so far, only) ride with Joey, the actors had been forbidden from getting in his cart.

True enough, it took them all of two minutes to cross from the trailer park to the far end of the studios. Cori couldn't help grinning as she staggered away from the cart, clutching the garment bags. She handed them over to the appropriate – powder fairy? Wardrobe consultant? Appearance technician? Cori was never sure what to call them, and she'd never paid enough attention at the end of the films to notice their title, either. In fact, she very rarely paid any attention to film credits unless it was the cast roll or the list of music used in the film. She was yet to pay attention enough to see her own name in the credits of _An Unexpected Journey_.

'Hey, Cori!' Todd, one of the props guys, grinned as he high-fived her, 'Taking a break from fashion and fabrics?'

'Yeah, my head is overflowing with revs and mods we've had to make to the Elvish gowns,' she nodded at the set, 'What brought you to the scene?'

'Someone broke their sword,' he gestured vaguely, 'Had to bring out a spare one.

Todd was an easygoing guy, two years Cori's senior, and he was always quick to smile with contagious excitement that infected anyone that got too close. She'd had a few drinks with him after finishing on a Saturday, and they sometimes sat together, with Cori's other friend on set, Lucy, during lunch.

'What time are you finishing up tonight?' Todd asked, 'A few of us were going to get some drinks at that pub up the road.'

'Can't, got a night of fixing tears and damage to the main costumes,' she offered a smile, 'You're welcome to drop by, though. I'll be in Costume until about ten,'

'Don't you start at four tomorrow?' Todd shook his head, 'You're crazy,'

'Hey, there's people who work harder than me,' she reminded him, grinning, backing towards the door, 'Text me if you're gonna drop by. And don't forget about Friday!'

'I'll bring my friend, Johnny, around,' he grinned, returning to the madness around the set. Cori stepped back out of the studio, relieved to see Joey was still waiting outside.

'Take me home, Joey,' she told him. He chuckled, and made a new record to get her back to the wardrobe department.

She stepped inside to see Jackson was already at it with Lucy, Karen, and Lauren, working on various rips and tears in the costumes. She sighed, finding the rack with her name on it, and dragged it over to her workstation.

Lauren and Karen left on time, and Lucy only stayed back fifteen minutes to get both of their work sorted into the racks the appearance technicians – Cori had decided to call them that for the time being – swung by in the morning to get them ready for the actors.

'You didn't have to tell Jackson I helped so much with the dress,' she told Cori when Jackson disappeared to get dinner for them all, 'He was praising me and asking where I found the spare fabric,'

'You needed to get out, so I covered for you,' Cori waved a hand, 'It's no big deal. Is your brother alright?'

'Yeah, he's awake and chatting up the nurses already,' she smiled. Cori had known Lucy – fondly nicknamed Luce – since high school, and they'd been in the (somewhat secret) Tolkien fan club together. She had even dared to date Luce's brother, Jason, but it had turned out they were better as friends with the occasional benefit on the side. Lucy left shortly after, leaving her and Jackson working together on repairs.

'What time are you on the clock until?' Jackson asked her around seven, as he put the last of his things away. Cori checked her watch.

'I've got these tears to fix but I'll go home after that,' she looked up, giving him a wry smile, 'Promise,''

'If you work after ten, don't come in until after six,' he told her, also smiling, 'I can't have anyone dropping from exhaustion.'

'I've worked longer with less sleep,' she told him, 'Worst comes to worst, I'll probably just crash on the rag bags,'

Jackson laughed, shaking his head. 'They're actually not that uncomfortable,' he told her, then sighed, 'Alright, but make sure you get sleep and something to eat. I haven't seen you eat anything but that small salad you had for dinner – if you could call it that,'

Cori only smiled as he left. She hated when people noticed her eating habits – or lack thereof. It wasn't that she thought she needed to lose weight or be thin – okay, there was some pudge around her waist that could go. And there had been signs of a second chin if she tilted her head the wrong way. And she'd lost a lot of muscle in her thighs since giving up tricking and freerunning, but otherwise she was a decent size. It was just that she…

Okay, she wasn't a huge fan of her weight. Bad thyroid glands ran in the Maori side of her family, and it had hit all of them around their mid-twenties. She'd even noticed the signs, what with a couple of stretch marks appearing on the sides of her thighs, and the jeans she'd had since she was eighteen were now tight around her hips. A couple of kilos off wasn't going to hurt anyone, least of all her. And seeing as she didn't have enough time to fit in a training schedule, her weight loss plan was focused mostly around her diet.

Cori sighed heavily as she finished the last piece – one of the hundreds of Dwarvish jackets. She slipped it onto the hanger and pulled the garment bag over it, zipping it closed and hanging it on one of the racks. Actors had busy lifestyles, so it was no surprise when their costumes got small rips or tears, and it was one of her primary duties to fix those up so they were invisible to even Elf eyes.

Speaking of Elves…

She paused as she passed the rack of Elven outfits, running her hand across the garments. These were simpler ones, worn by the various extras, but just as much attention had been paid to them as the costumes of the main elves. Cori glanced around, looking at the door, then in the direction of the prosthetics department. People worked there overnight, but the door to them was almost always shut, and they knew costume and wardrobe were usually all gone by this time of night.

She crossed to the rack where the female dresses were usually kept, and pulled one of them out, unzipping the garment bag. Evangeline Lilly, the actor who played Tauriel, was a little taller than her, and a little thinner, but the costume wasn't exactly tight-fitting, even on someone half a size wider than her.

Cori knew because she'd done this before. Just the once, but it had been a blissful once. She might have been twenty-four, but that didn't mean she wasn't prepared to act mature 24/7.

The dress flared slightly from the waist, so her cargo pants wouldn't be a problem, and her black singlet top was tight-fitting, which meant she could pull the dress on and not have to drop her own clothing, which meant it would make an easier explanation (lie) if she was caught out.

The dress slid past her shoulders, and she looked down at it, pulling it right in places and smoothing it out so it sat… well, it wasn't made for her, so it wasn't going to sit perfectly, but near perfect was good enough for her.

She picked a stray thread off the dress and sighed heavily, before moving over to the full-length mirrors. Yes, if she let her ponytail out, and then pulled back the upper half of her hair… no, that showed off her face too much. She teased her hair forward, letting the soft curls fall into her line of sight, and smiled shyly at her reflection. She didn't look entirely elvish – she needed pointy ears and a taller stature for that – but she looked good. Well, the colour of the dress made her look okay.

Cori had never liked her appearance. Her hair was slightly frizzy, cut to shoulder-length, and black. She had some grey hairs here and there, but not obvious, and dandruff had been a problem for her in her middle teenage years. Her eyes were a dull sea-green, borderline hazel, and there were a few ugly flecks of brown in her irises. They always looked too small set into her face, which was why she often added a thin line of eyeliner on her lower lid; even light-coloured eyeliner made them look just that hint larger. She wasn't curvaceous, unless a slightly pudgy stomach and "ghetto booty" could be considered as such, and she was just pushing a C cup. Her shoulders were too broad to look effeminate, and she wasn't one of the tallest people around. She sighed, doing a slow spin to admire the dress – really the only thing about her current appearance that she adored one hundred per cent.

As a child, Cori had been advanced, especially in reading and writing. Her mother had given her _The _Hobbit and _The Lord of the _Rings box set for Christmas one year, and she'd read The Hobbit in the space of two weeks – a remarkably fast pace for a nine-year-old. _The Fellowship of the Ring_ had taken her slightly longer, but she still adored them. Of all of them, she'd loved _The Hobbit_ the most. Even as a teenager, she'd dreamed of being in Bilbo's position, and had eventually found herself in it – an ex-dreamer suddenly thrust into an adventure. Only, her adventure was doing costume on a movie set.

It wasn't the ultimate adventure, but it was close enough. For now.

Cori twirled again, admiring the way the skirt fanned out, before stumbling and almost falling off the fitting dais – co-ordination wasn't her forte, and being tired didn't improve it. She straightened herself, smoothing the dress out, and looked up again, almost screaming and whirling around.

'What are you doing here?' she demanded, 'This place is closed,'

The figure, dressed in a somewhat familiar armour costume, stared back at her. She sighed, waving a hand.

'You're not supposed to be wearing that, unless you're here for a fitting,' she told them. The armoured figure didn't respond, and she gestured to herself, 'I'm making sure this is fitted properly.'

The figure still didn't respond, and she frowned, stepping towards him (or her – Cori wasn't sure).

'_Stop,_'

The voice reverberated throughout the room, and made her halt. It sounded like the voice used in the films, digitally enhanced or whatever. She tilted her head at the armoured person, moving to step forward again. He had left his hand raised, and as she moved, he hissed the single word again.

'_Stop._'

'I have stopped,' she told him, now certain it was a guy, 'Who the hell are you, and what are you doing here after hours?'

She realised where she recognised the armour from – Sauron's armour, as shown in The Fellowship movie. One of the guys in prosthetics had thrown a fancy dress party and Zach from Catering had come dressed in that. But that armour wasn't on this set, which meant this guy had brought it in himself. Die-hard fans could be creepy sometimes.

'Look, ditch the suit and get out of here now, and I won't call security,' she told him, 'Those are your options.'

'_Your "security" is no match for me, She-Elf,_' he told her, his voice still doing the reverb thing through the whole room. Cori was starting to find it a little creepy, and as he spoke, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. This guy was clearly in too deep, a nutcase fanboy – at least she didn't pretend to be LOTR characters beyond cosplay events. Most of the time.

'Look, mate,' she stepped down off the dais, 'I'm a cosplayer as well, and a fan. I get that you love the books and films, but this is going a bit far. I don't want to have to call security, so I'm giving you until the count of ten to get out of here,'

'_You will receive the same fate as I,_' he said in his hiss-like voice, and then began chanting in another language. Cori couldn't be sure, but she'd heard enough orc actors speaking it to know it was the Black Speeck of Mordor – or at least, the way it was usually spoken in the films. She waved a hand, moving for her mobile phone which had been left at her workstation.

'I didn't want to do this,' she warned him, 'But you're being plain-out weird, so you brought this on yourself,'

As she felt her hand close around the phone, though, there was a sudden flash of flame across her vision, and she spun around the see the stranger was… on fire?

No, he wasn't, but the space around him looked like it was. The flames rushed towards Cori, and she screamed, stumbling backwards. She slammed her hand down on the counter, feeling a sharp pair of scissors slice across her palm, and fell against the wall as the flames reached her, scorching her skin. There was a searing pain in her legs, hands, and ears, and she screamed as it intensified. It felt as though she was on fire, being burned alive, and she held a hand in front of her face as her eyes began to burn.

She kept them open in shock, though, seeing her flesh melting away before her eyes, her muscles turning to liquid and dripping from her arms. The dress was on fire as well, and as she looked up at the stranger, she realised that either she was hallucinating, or dying.

Or both.

The last waking thought Cori had was that whoever the guy was, he was _definitely_ not a cosplayer.


	3. Wake

**?!  
?!**

Voices.

Voices all around.

'Does she live?'

'Who can say? I see no evidence of a spider sting,'

'Perhaps she fell? Even the Eldar are susceptible to the illusion of Mirkwood if they have not ventured here prior,'

Cori felt something dig into her ribs painfully, and she gasped, shrinking away from the pain. Her body was still aching all over, and her mind was slowly replaying her afternoon. The fitting with Eva, dropping off Aidan's outfit, Todd's invitation…

She screamed as she remembered the stranger, throwing fire at her in the workshop, and scrambled backwards on her hands. Her vision was blurred, and all she could see at first was darkness, twisting shapes, and a few points of light that stood out against the dark. A cold, sharp thing touched her lightly under the chin, and she froze.

'Tell us your name, elleth,'

Cori blinked as her vision cleared, and she looked up to see a young man standing over her, grey eyes glaring at her cautiously. He was holding a long knife to her throat, and she swallowed nervously.

Then she realised he was in costume. She'd spent enough hours stitching Elvish garb to recognize it – even if it did look significantly different to the styles she was used to making.

'Lurien,' one of the others moved forward, saying something in a strange, vowel-heavy language. "Lurien" lowered the knife, and the other man moved in front of her, dropping to one knee to look at her closer. He had dark blonde hair that hung below his shoulders, the upper half pulled away from his face, and his eyes were also grey, but a clearer, lighter shade. He frowned slightly at her, tilting his head slightly, and she saw the ears – not normal human-shaped, but slightly pointed, shaped more like a leaf than human ears generally were.

Cori lifted her gaze to see that she was in a forest somewhere, huge healthy-looking trees standing amongst old, twisted, gnarled trees that seemed to look evil. More than that, the entire air was different – rich, cool, with a sort of damp feel. She shivered suddenly, feeling the cold on her skin, and looked back to see the blonde one was still regarding her.

'What is your name?' he asked her. He had a sort of accent, mostly English but with a faint hint of Irish. He had fair skin, and was dressed similar to the knife-wielder. Cori hesitated.

'Uh… Cori,' she offered. Someone muttered something in the foreign language, and she looked around the blonde man – an elf? – to see three more standing around the edge of the clearing. They shared similar features – grey eyes of varying shades, and brown hair of varying shades. Two of them were men, the third being female. Her hair had a reddish tint to it, and her grey eyes narrowed at sight of Cori.

'Legolas!'

The blonde one in front of Cori stood up, turning to her, and she stared at him. _Legolas?_

He snapped an order at the knife-wielding man and another, smaller one, who both moved towards Cori. Sensing danger, she struck out with her leg, hooking her foot behind the knife-wielder's knee and pulling him forward before rolling away from him and somehow managing to roll onto her feet at the same time.

She was grabbed roughly and forced onto her knees, and the cold steel of a knife was pressed against her throat again as someone pinned her against their body. She froze as she saw the blonde one in front of her, aiming an arrow between her eyes.

'Do not think that I won't,' he told her in a deadly voice. Cori took a deep breath, then raised her hands meekly.

Obviously, someone had drugged her and dragged her into some sort of twisted roleplay game. It even felt like they were using real knives, for crying out loud! The entire fire thing must have been some sort of hallucination, an effect of whatever drugs she'd been given.

The "elves" relaxed, and the knife was removed from her throat. Someone shoved her in the shoulder, and she began walking, following "Legolas" down the dirt-covered pathway through this forest.

'Look, if this is some sort of RPG, it's gone way too far,' she told them, 'Cosplay and role-playing is one thing, but kidnapping and threats – that's different entirely.'

'If you do not be silent, we will make you silent,' Legolas told her. Cori frowned.

'And more threats. Where are we, anyway?'

Nobody answered her, and she sighed heavily. She didn't know if their knives were sharp, but the one RP-ing as Legolas had a bow, and even blunts could hurt when fired at point-blank range.

She followed them, looking around herself. The further they travelled, the less of the dead or dying trees she saw, and the more green and lively the forest seemed.

The trees ended suddenly, and she stared at the sight before her. They had _really_ pulled out all the stops with this one.

A narrow bridge, probably made from a fallen tree trunk, spanned across a deep chasm through which a violent river flew. A huge stone wall rose on the other side of the river, rising higher than she could see, and a pair of doors at least ten metres tall stood open, leading into the side of what Cori assumed was a mountain.

She was shoved in the back again, and followed Legolas and the female across the bridge and through the doors. Legolas stood to the side as they passed, looking back into the forest, before following their group inside.

Cori didn't pay any attention as he snapped orders at the others of his group – she was too awe-struck by the cavernous hall they'd entered. They stood on a huge platform that served as an entry hall, but there were no walls or ceiling above it. Giant, thick tree branches or roots wove over, under, through and around each other, creating bridges, stairways, and more platforms in a mazelike pattern. Cracks far above shone light down upon the subterranean city, and some platforms that ringed the walls were enclosed, rooms of a sort.

'You guys really went all out,' she said mostly to herself. She looked back down to see that Legolas was watching her warily.

'This way,' he told her after considering her for a moment, turning and leading her up one of the flights of stairs, 'If you try to run, you will be killed,'

'Comforting,' Cori followed him up several flights of stairs and over countless bridges. He paused as they stepped onto a platform, gesturing for her to continue upward. She hesitated, and he grabbed her arm roughly, propelling her forward.

Cori stumbled off the top step and onto a large, wide platform. Another set of stairs led up to a throne, and she stared at the man who was descending the stairs. He had pale blonde hair and the same grey eyes the other elf roleplayers had, and wore a headdress fashioned from what looked like twigs. Cori stared at him as he descended, striding towards her.

Legolas addressed him in Elvish, and he eyed Cori warily, before replying in Elvish. He and Legolas exchanged a few more words in Elvish, and Cori watched between the two.

'So tell me,' the tall man stated, turning his attention to Cori, 'What brings an Avari elleth to the borders of the Woodland Realm?'

Cori raised her eyebrows, staring at him. 'I dunno,' she told him, 'Maybe the drugs your idiot role-playing friends fed me?'

He narrowed his eyes dangerously, and Cori suddenly felt a chill. She glanced at Legolas, who was watching her impassively. That was probably when she realised.

Woodland Realm. Legolas. Elves. The sense of foreboding in the forest, and even the change in the taste and smell of the air.

'Oh god. Oh my _god_!'

Cori knew her eyes were widening, and she stumbled backwards. The other elf turned directly to her, frowning slightly, and Legolas moved towards her. Her hands flew to her mouth, and her knees buckled suddenly.

She was hyperventilating, staring at the wooden floor that had been carved from tree roots. As she did, she noticed one of her hands, shaking horribly, and stared at it. She'd always lived with small hands with short, stubby fingers and nails that were often chewed to the bed. These slender hands with long, tapered fingers and perfectly-grown nails weren't hers.

And yet, it was responding how she was telling her hand to respond. Her skin felt like it was crawling as she realised she was still wearing the Tauriel costume dress, and she could see a small tear in the skirt. She'd have to fix that up.

A hand was placed on her shoulder, and she looked up through blurred vision to see that Legolas – no shitting way was that _the_ Legolas, he was a fictional character – leaning over her. He looked uncertain, and glanced over his shoulder at the other before turning back to her, his mouth moving. Cori realised at that moment that she wasn't hearing anything but a buzzing in her ears, which seemed to be growing in volume. She blinked, realizing that the blurry vision was because she was crying, and she was rocking back and forth hysterically. The buzzing began to subside, but the sound of her own voice, sobbing hysterically as she choked out phrases that were almost incomprehensible babble.

Her first thought was of her mother. They'd lost her father to cancer when she was a teenager, and her mother and sister had fought a lot. Her sister had taken off when she was eighteen, so it had been just Cori and her mother for the last few years. Was her mother still sitting up, waiting for her to come home? Or had it been so long for them that she had finally given up and gone off to bed?

Then she thought of her friends. Emma, Todd, Luce, Shane – they were supposed to be going out to the pub on Friday. It would be Todd's first time meeting her other friends, and Cori had told them to try not being too weird. She had liked Todd. Was he dead? Were they all dead? Would they ever know what had happened to her?

Actually, what _had_ happened to her? Cori felt her breath gasping in the thick, sweet air as she closed her eyes, felt a faint pressure on her upper arm, and distant voices, too far away to understand their words, which she probably wouldn't be able to understand anyway. She tried to think back, remembering Eva's fitting, dropping off the Kili costume, fixing up the seams, saying goodbye to Jackson…

She pushed harder, trying to remember after that – that was when it had all become foggy and unclear. She remembered picking out the dress, putting it on, and then…

Fire. A suit of armour, and fire everywhere. Cori felt the strangest sensation of falling as she remembered it, but it was as though that wasn't enough.

The burn started in her hands, ears, and the bones of her legs. Then it was as though the fire spread, covering her whole body, obscuring her vision. She knew that she was screaming, but the worst thing of it all was the lack of sound reaching her ears; not even her own screams! The burning became agonizing, and she thrashed around, as if that would free her from the flames. Her skin was burning, melting right in front of her, and her bones were slowly turning to ash.

Cori screamed again, feeling her vocal chords strain from the exertion, and her body stopped moving. The flames suddenly disappeared, as though a gust of wind had forced them all away, and she was floating in darkness.

No, not darkness; tiny pinpricks of light were visible in the distance, and each time she blinked, more appeared.

Cori stared at the skyscape around her. Logic was telling her she shouldn't be able to breathe here, and then she realised she wasn't even breathing. Was she dead, or was this some sort of deep dream?'

'Cori?' a voice to her left startled her, and she looked around to see a large, luminescent ball of white floating nearby, 'Cori, can you hear me? Please wake up!'

The voice was female, and sounded tearful, but it wasn't her mother's voice – she knew that much. She squinted at the light, trying to see if anyone was there.

'The fever seems to have abated,' an old man's voice said to her right, and she turned to see another light hanging there.

'Then she is not Elvish?' another voice asked.

'No, I fear not,' the old man's voice hesitated, 'She appears to be from a very distant place, possibly descended from... _him_.'

'The Immortal Man?' a third voice asked, 'He died without any children – and he was the last of his kind!'

'It would be impossible for her to descend from _him_,' the second male stated.

'I have only seen such a case as this once before,' the old man told them, his voice fading away.

'They said her breathing is light and quick,' an elderly woman's voice stated from the left, 'Not taking in enough air, so they've got her on the oxygen.'

'Do they think she'll wake up soon?'

'They don't know,'

'Do you think she will wake up soon?' one of the voices from her right asked. Cori looked around at the light to her left, to see it fading slightly. She knew that elderly woman's voice...

'She is already awake and listening to us now,'

Cori opened her eyes, staring at the two figures beside her bed. One of them was the Elf that had been there on the platform, although he was missing his twig headdress. The other looked like an old man with grey beard and hair, cloaked in what looked like grey rags. She looked over to see Legolas was standing on her other side, arms folded as he watched the other two.

'You gave your hosts quite a scare,' the old man told her, taking a seat by the bed. Cori frowned at him, and tried to sit up, but a hand appeared on her shoulder.

'Rest, for now,' Legolas told her, 'You have been ill for several days, but your fever broke late this evening. You are still weak, though, and will not be able to walk for a day or two,'

Cori looked up at the old man, then at the male Elf.

'I suppose introductions are in order,' the old man stated, turning to the Elf and then back to her, 'I am Mithrandir, also known as—'

'Gandalf,' Cori told him, 'Mithrandir, the Grey Pilgrim, a.k.a Gandalf the Grey, one of the five _Istari_, or wizards.'

'Remarkable,' the Elf stated, 'As you said; she seems to possess knowledge that is impossible for her to know,'

Cori looked at him, trying to place him among all the different characters. Glorfindel? No, he didn't seem like the way she'd pictured Glorfindel. Then she remembered where she was.

'You're Thranduil, then,' she stated, 'King of the Woodland Realm.'

'How could you know this?' Thranduil asked, glaring at her. Gandalf smiled.

'Now it is your turn to tell us _your_ name,' he stated. Cori hesitated, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, and she froze.

That wasn't her ear.

The last time she'd checked, her ears were human, a normal-sized. Not... not pointed and slim and...

'She looks shocked,' Thranduil noted softly to Gandalf, 'Perhaps you were right.'

Cori was too busy feeling the shape of her ears. Suddenly, Thranduil's words earlier made sense.

'_What brings an Avari elleth to the borders of the Woodland Realm?'_

Gandalf cleared his throat, and Cori looked up. It felt like she was in a dream, everything so surreal.

'We were waiting for you to give us your name,' he reminded her. Cori bit her lip.

'Cori,' she realised by Thranduil's strange gaze that she should probably go for something slightly more Elvish, 'El. Coriel,'

'Can you tell us where you come from?' he asked. Cori hesitated.

'Uh...' she decided she'd be better off telling the truth of sorts, 'New Zealand,'

Gandalf nodded _very_ slowly, but Thranduil frowned.

'Where is this... Nuselind place?' he asked. Cori hesitated, and Gandalf jumped in for her.

'It's in a collection of islands, far from here,' he told Thranduil, 'You are already familiar with the name – Earth?'

'Where he is from,' Thranduil nodded significantly, then looked at Cori, 'And does that mean that she is a descendent?'

'Possibly,'

'A descendent of who?' Cori asked. Gandalf and Thranduil looked at her.

'Tolkien,'


	4. Elves of the Woodland Realm

**The Woodland Realm, Middle-Earth  
Iavas, Year 2925 of the Third Age**

Cori's head hurt.

The migraine had lasted for the past three days that she had been bedridden, slowly subsiding but still there. Every time she tried to get more than four hours of sleep, she was haunted by dreams of the flames, and while she'd stopped waking up screaming, she still woke in a cold sweat most of the time.

Thranduil, after Gandalf had spoken quietly with him, had treated her like a guest of high honour. She had been moved to one of the rooms in the higher levels, given a maid (a lovely forty-year-old Silvan elleth named Mellana), and a whole heap of new clothing provided for her.

But for all the beautiful gowns Thranduil gifted to her and the welcome he suddenly offered, nothing could make her feel entirely better. Sometimes, before she dreamed of the flames, she would find herself floating between those two light orbs. The one to her right was often silent and peaceful now, while the one to her left often beeped constantly like a heart monitor. Every now and then, voices that she knew, or felt like she should know, could be heard from that side.

'You heal surprisingly fast, especially for an Avari,' the beautiful, mature elleth that had been looking after her told her the morning of the fourth day. 'If you feel tired, rest. I will see to it that meat is added to your diet, as you need to regain strength, and going outside and walking around will undoubtedly help.'

Cori nodded numbly, watching as the elf redressed the bandage on her hand – she could barely remember slicing her palm open, but the wound was deep enough to stop her moving her hand properly.

'When will I have full use of my hand again?' she asked. The nurse, who had given her name as Nemirwen, hesitated.

'It was a deep wound, but if it heals properly then you will have full use within a month,'

Something else was bugging Cori, but she didn't know how to ask about it. So far, she'd needed help to visit the bathroom, but there were other certain… hygiene things, _girly_ things, that she needed to know about. She cleared her throat uncertainly, and Nemirwen looked at her.

'Do I… what do I do when it's "that time of the month"?' she asked hesitantly. Nemirwen blinked at her mutely, 'Y'know, when I get my, er, flux,'

She stared at Cori blankly. '"Flux"?'

'Y'know, when I…' she lowered her voice, '_Bleed_,'

Nemirwen's grey eyes widened as she stared at Cori incredulously, and she heard a soft trill of laughter from Mellana, who had been setting out a small lunch for her. She said something to the nurse in Elvish, then looked at Cori.

'Only mortal women are subjected to that monthly,' she explained, 'Elleth do not "flux" in the way mortal women do,'

Cori managed a weak smile at the two ellith. 'I'm not exactly… familiar with Elvish nature,'

Nemirwen nodded, 'Mithrandir did say that you were not born an Elf. Now,' she pinned the dressing on Cori's hand and stood up, 'Keep that hand mostly still, dry, and try not to use it too much. Do not over-exert yourself; your body may feel better, but you are still weakened. Eat well, and sleep. I will see you tomorrow morning.'

Cori nodded as she swept from the room, and Mellana looked after her, slack-jawed with awe.

'You hold high in the King's favour,' she noted, turning back to Cori, 'To have the Lady Nemirwen treat you is an honour indeed, especially for an Avari. The King does not let his daughter even treat resident Silvan Elves,'

Cori stared as she moved to the side of the bed. '_That's_ Thranduil's daughter? I didn't even know he _had_ a daughter,'

It was true – in all the books, there was no mention of Thranduil having any other children besides Legolas.

Mellana helped her to the table, and Cori realised that Nemirwen's advice had rung true; laying in bed, she felt strong, and the first few steps had been easy, but by the time she had reached the table, even with Mellana's help, she had found herself struggling to breathe. Recovery was obviously going to be a long road, and the fact that the air here was so thick and _different_ wasn't helping any.

The food that had been set out on the table was mostly fruits and greens. For the last few days, Cori had been eating lembas; at first she had loved the sweet taste and the way it had made her feel well-fed, but as it is when a diet constitutes of mainly one thing, she had soon gotten tired of it. Now, she looked at all the fruits laid out in front of her, finding herself trying to draw comparisons with Earth fruit. The apples looked mostly the same, and the huge citrus fruit that had been cut in half already had to be a grapefruit, but there were no bananas, and the other fruit bore little to no resemblance of Earth food.

She picked up a peach-like fruit, noting that the only difference to it and Earth peaches was the colour of the skin – a bright red for this one.

She hesitated, then bit into it.

And spat the mouthful onto an empty plate to her left.

'What _is_ that?' she asked, dropping the fruit onto the plate. Mellana had pursed her lips, and was trying not to laugh.

'It is called a caernevyn,' she told Cori, 'Or caerna for short. They are quite bitter, often called an acquired taste.'

'If I ever see one of those on this table ever again, I'm setting it on fire,' she stuck her tongue out of her mouth in distaste; she could still taste the bitterness in her mouth, 'Pass us an apple,'

Mellana passed her one of the apples, and she bit into it, glad that it was sweeter than what she was used to eating – it washed away the bitter taste of the caerna fruit.

Mellana watched as she sampled all of the foreign fruits, most of which she ended up spitting out onto the "No" plate – Cori had decided to call it that because they were the things she swore to set on fire or dissect or throw at unsuspecting passers-by, if she ever saw them again.

'You have a very sweet taste,' Mellana noted as she cleared away the leftover food. Cori was resting in the chair, feeling better for having eaten something other than lembas bread, and she felt capable of walking around more.

'How do we go outside?' she asked Mellana suddenly. The young Elf straightened up and tilted her head. 'Nemirwen, said I should get some sunlight and outside air instead of staying in here all the time.'

Mellana hesitated, 'It is forbidden to go outside without an escort,' she told Cori, 'Besides, you need your strength for this evening. There is rumour that the King was planning to invite you to dine with his children and himself,'

'When did you hear that?' Cori wondered. She hadn't seen Mellana leave the room for most of the morning, and no messages had come.

There was a soft knock at the door, and Mellana smiled as she set the emptied platters on the table to answer. Cori pulled herself to her feet, swaying slightly, and forced herself to walk to the end of the table as Mellana pulled the door open to allow the messenger entry.

Legolas eyed her critically, bowing his head. 'You look far better than last we met,' he told Cori, 'Forgive me if I was unnecessarily rude; the protection of our kingdom is not an easy task even in a watchful peace,'

Cori waved a hand, noting that he was wearing a more formal outfit than he'd worn when she had met him; this was a robe similar to his father's, though it held less majesty. 'It's nothing. I can understand,' she told him, managing a smile. He raised his eyes and looked at her, taking in the Elvish nightgown she had been dressed in and the way her hair had been pinned back.

'The King has requested your presence at the evening meal tonight,' Legolas stated formally, 'He says that, should you accept, he would like to see you in the most recent dress he sent for you,' Legolas managed a slight hint of a grimace, as though he knew his father had some ulterior motive.

Cori hesitated, glancing at Mellana, who nodded fiercely, her eyes glittering. She took a deep breath.

'Tell King Thranduil that I'll be there,' she told Legolas, who inclined his head.

'We will begin at sunset, in the Starlight Courtyard,' he told her, 'Mellana can show you the way.'

'I'll remember to look my best,' Cori told him, smiling. A little part of her was pleased to note that he looked nothing like the Legolas character in the films – his hair was a darker blonde, and his face was narrower, angular. He looked more mature, instead of looking like a boy.

Legolas nodded, turning to leave. He hesitated at the door.

'I'm glad you're feeling better,' he told her hesitantly, 'I look forward to seeing you this evening,'

Cori raised her hand in a small wave as he disappeared, Mellana closing the door behind him.

'He's so formal,' Cori remarked, and Mellana trilled with laughter again.

'He's usually much more formal,' she told Cori, returning to clearing the dishes, 'You go ahead and rest there, and I'll be back soon. You'll need some sleep before the evening meal, if you are to be joining the King.'

Cori managed the few steps back to the bed on her own, amazed at how quickly her strength had picked up. Still, the bed was warm and comfortable, and while her mind was still trying to sift through everything of the past week or so, she was content to curl up under the thick, warm covers and tell the world to bugger off.

Of course, being alone only seemed to make it worse. Cori had found herself drawing similarities between Luce and Mellana, and it had comforted her slightly. It didn't fill the gap, though.

She closed her eyes, feeling her mind floating away from her body. It was a terrifying experience at first, feeling detached from everything, but she'd come to enjoy it. She had remembered reading something about fugue being linked to out-of-body experiences, and had idly wondered a few times if that was what was going on inside her head.

She knew Mellana had noticed it, and Nemirwen had probably noted it as well. She just wasn't connecting properly. It was worse when she thought about home, and how far she was from it, and the people there. Even now she could feel a dull ache in her chest, which she knew as heartache. She'd known that feeling since she was fifteen, when cancer had finally taken her father after five years of chemo and hospitals and white walls and white floors and starched white sheets. Cori had sworn to never get so sick that she'd need a hospital after that – it wasn't the hospital itself that scared her, it was knowing that so many people that went in never came out alive.

But, as she found herself in that familiar starscape with the two stars hovering on either side, she knew that the left one was in a hospital somewhere.

She'd figured out that part of it. The two stars were, apparently, her two lives – one on Earth, that hung in the balance, and one on Middle-Earth – god, the concept was still so weird – where she was alive and (despairingly) slowly recovering. She'd tried reaching out to the Earth star, but every time she got close enough to touch it, she would return to the memory of the fire, and then she'd wake up.

This time, for the first time, she didn't reach out for the star to her left. She just floated there, hoping that someone would talk.

'Hey,'

Cori's head jerked up as she heard a familiar voice to her left.

'Any change?' Todd asked. Cori had the mental image of someone sitting beside her bed, shaking their head. Someone sighed heavily, and she heard foil crinkling.

'I brought a new set,' Todd stated, 'What do you want me to do with these?'

'Throw them out,' an unfamiliar female voice stated, 'I got them from the shop the other day, and they already looked wilted then.' A different voice sighed, 'I sent Mum home. She's been sleepless for the last two nights.'

'The nurse I spoke to said there's not much chance she'll wake up,' Todd stated, 'Even if she does, they think she'll be in a fugue state, so she might not even be the same,'

So she was (sort of) right; she _was_ slightly fugue.

'Coriel? We have to prepare you for the meal,'

Cori heard Mellana's voice, and turned back to see the Earth star fading once again. She opened her eyes, and Mellana was leaning over her.

'You didn't have a bad dream this time,' she grinned, 'The visions must be fading.'

'No; I think I've just worked out how to avoid them,' Cori replied. Surprisingly, she felt very relaxed and well-rested; unlike every other time she slept.

Mellana had already pulled the dress from the wardrobe, and it was draped over the back of a chair. It seemed to be made of a sort of silky fabric, dyed a pale green with silvery, translucent sleeves that flared slightly from the elbow down, and a collar that rose up to cover the lower half of her neck. The bodice was laced in a similar fashion to a corset, and the skirt flared from the waist, which she knew would accentuate her (lack of) waistline and make it look smaller.

Mellana helped her into the dress, and then sat her down to fiddle with her hair.

'Your hair is beautiful,' she remarked, 'The colour is uncommon, as is the wavy style, but it seems to suit you perfectly,'

Cori managed a weak smile. 'It's always been too frizzy to really do anything with,' she explained.

'Frizz? Your hair is as smooth as silk,'

'Are you sure?' Cori grabbed a lock from Mellana's fingers, staring at it. Last she'd looked, her hair had been mostly black, and slightly frizzy with a natural wave. Now, it was a lighter shade of black, with what looked like brown and a hint of red shot through, falling in a soft, natural curl with no frizz at all.

Cori stood up, crossing to the large, full-length mirror that hung on the wall. Some other girl stared back at her in shock. Not entirely believing her eyes, Cori raised a hand in a gesture, and the mirror girl copied her.

'Is all well?' Mellana asked, moving after her. She appeared in the background of the mirror image, looking slightly concerned, but Cori barely paid her any attention.

The first thing she noticed was her body. The pudge was gone from her stomach, and the sides of her waist curved inwards only slightly, but enough to give her a figure. Her hips, despite the flared skirt accentuating the size, looked slightly thinner than she was accustomed to seeing, and her shoulders weren't as broad. She realised with a shock that she was also slightly taller – instead of pushing around 5'5", she was closer to 5'8", and as she gazed at her new body, an adjective came to mind that she would never have even dreamed of using before – willowy.

That wasn't all that had changed, and it certainly wasn't the part that had undergone the most transformation. Reaching up in incredulity, Cori touched her face gently. It was thinner, more angular, and the freckles that had once covered her skin were gone. She still had fair skin, but it was half a tone darker than she'd had before, and there were no traces of the pimple she'd felt building up the last few days she'd been on Earth. Her nose hadn't changed much, still slightly flattened – she'd inherited that from her Maori grandfathers – but her eyes showed her Japanese ancestry, slightly larger and an ever-so-subtle slant that she'd never had before. Her lips looked thinner – at least there was one negative point to the whole transformation – but her eyes looked clearer; still sea-green, but no longer dull.

'You act as though you've never seen yourself,' Mellana noted. Cori shook her head.

'Not like this,' she admitted, and it was true; just looking at her reflection now, for the first time in her life, she felt confidently beautiful.


	5. Dining with the Elvenking

**The Woodland Realm, Middle-Earth  
39th Day of Iavas, 2925**

'The Starlight Courtyard is one of the few dining areas above the caverns,' Mellana told Cori as she helped her up the hundredth flight of stairs. She turned back to see Cori leaning against a huge pillar, catching her breath, 'Coriel?'

'Too... Many... Stairs,' Cori was panting, but took a few more deep breaths before forcing herself onwards, 'So long as there's a seat at the top,'

Mellana smiled hesitantly, continuing onwards. 'If it is any consolation, this is the last set,'

'Oh, good,' Cori made a mental note to work on her fitness, especially if she was going to be stuck here a while. Stairs seemed to be the only way to get anywhere in this subterranean realm. She looked over the side of the stairs, and instantly regretted it. They had to be at least a few hundred metres in the air, and climbing higher.

As she (finally) reached the "courtyard", though, she realised the climb was worth it. She could see in every direction for several kilometres, over the tops of the trees. To the east, there was a large lake and beyond that, she could see a mountain – that must be Erebor. To the south, she could see as far as a ruinous peak somewhere in the far south of the forest. To the north, small mountains, and the sun was slinking below much taller mountains far to the west, the rays of light striking the tops of the trees and turning them golden-green.

The courtyard itself was more of a platform, suspended on the topmost branches of several large trees, and huge wooden columns soared up at least fifteen metres around the edge, green vines woven around the lower parts of the pillars, the pillars spaced at two-metre intervals. A long, narrow table stood in the centre of the courtyard, about twenty chairs placed at even intervals along it's length. The head of the table was taken up by a larger, more elaborately carved wooden chair.

A trio of Elves stood on the eastern side of the platform, talking quietly. Cori recognised Legolas, his back turned to her, and she knew Nemirwen on sight, but the other male Elf didn't look familiar. He stood taller than both Legolas and Nemirwen, and his hair was a pale blonde. He was smiling, and saw Cori first, beckoning for her to join them.

Cori glanced at Mellana, who inclined her head and was gone, leaving Cori alone. She slowly turned, making her way towards the trio, and managed a weak smile at the three. The pale blonde Elf said something to her in Elvish, and she pursed her lips as Legolas said something to him in Elvish. Pale Blonde stared at her in astonishment.

'Legolas tells me you do not speak Elvish,' he stated, 'Surely he is mistaken?'

Cori slowly shook her head, 'He's right; I never learned Sindarin or Quenya,'

'Coriel,' Legolas drew her attention, 'This is Throndaer, eldest son of the King,'

'And our brother,' Nemirwen added, placing a hand on Throndaer's shoulder. He placed a fist over his left breast, and bowed his head.

'I am pleased to see our Avari kin are not as dead as they'd have us believe,' Throndaer remarked, 'Well met, Coriel,'

Cori could tell there was a hint of suspicion in his voice, and she saw it when she met his gaze. He frowned slightly as their eyes met, too, and said something to Legolas in Elvish.

'He finds your eyes strange,' Nemirwen whispered to her, 'Few among our race have blue eyes; green is near unheard-of, and the shape...'

'Trust me, I find it weird as well,' Cori reassured her.

'Tell me, Coriel,' Throndaer was watching her again, 'Where is it again that you come from? I have heard the name Nuselind, but it does not appear on any of our maps, and the Avari never cared to travel westwards, for Valinor.'

Cori felt the corner of her mouth tug in a sort of half-grimace. They were getting it all so wrong.

'New Zealand,' she corrected, 'And it won't appear on any of your maps. It's a _long_ way away, far beyond any places you know,'

'To the east, then?' Throndaer asked, gesturing for what Cori assumed to be a serving-elf to bring over another goblet, 'Do you drink wine?'

'Not often,' she admitted, but he pressed the goblet into her hand anyway.

'It's one of the best,' Nemirwen told her as her own cup was refilled, 'Try it,'

Cori hesitantly raised the cup and took a sip. It was a red wine, but significantly sweeter than any red wine she'd ever tasted before.

'Sampling my wine before I arrive?'

Cori jerked around to see Thranduil had arrived, once again missing his twig headdress. He swept past them, taking his seat at the head of the table, and Throndaer, Nemirwen, and Legolas moved to take their own places. Legolas grabbed Cori's arm tightly, steering her towards the chair on his left, and pulled the seat out for her, taking his own seat once she was settled.

As plates laden with food were brought out by more serving-elves, Cori felt Thranduil's gaze on her, and she took a sip of wine, suddenly feeling very subconscious. It was easy to see who held the power in this family.

'I am pleased to see you are feeling better, Coriel,' Thranduil stated coolly, 'At first, we feared your illness could be contagious; there are not many diseases that can cause such a violent reaction in the Eldar. But I suppose, our Avari cousins are not as immune to weakness as we,'

It was a veiled insult, calling her weak, but Cori knew that calling him out on it – or even trying to match wits – would get her in a lot of trouble, so she kept silent.

'Before you arrived, I was asking Coriel where exactly she travelled from,' Throndaer told Thranduil. With the two of them sitting next to each other, she could see the resemblance – not only in physical appearance, but also in their haughty manner and domineering nature. Thranduil's icy grey eyes speared Cori across the table as he took up a goblet.

'That is a question I'm sure all of us would like answered,' Thranduil stated smoothly, 'But as it has been brought to my attention that our guest has endured a – _horrific_ – journey, we must approach the matter with great caution.'

'I've a question,' Cori said suddenly, feeling emboldened by the wine (which she'd been gulping since Thranduil's arrival), 'Avari haven't been seen since the First Age, if I'm not mistaken, and – respectfully – you seem well-aged, but not quite _that_ old. How do you know Avari on sight if you've never met them?'

'They wander this way once or twice an age,' Thranduil replied, taking a small roll from one of the plates near him, 'I have met three; each time they have borne strangely-coloured eyes that are also shaped unusually. Few Elves of non-Avari blood have eye colour other than grey, and none have the slant yours bear.'

'What happened to these other Avari travellers?' Cori asked. Thranduil was serving himself food from each of the plates closest to him, and Legolas, Throndaer, and Nemirwen were copying him. Cori began to select food that looked like food she knew and would eat.

'They wasted away,' Thranduil replied bluntly, 'Or they were killed by the spiders on the borders of our lands. They are more reckless than the Silvan Elves, less wise, and far less skilled, closer to Men in skill and wisdom than the Eldar.'

More veiled insults. Cori felt like "accidentally" flinging a piece of what looked like broccoli at him, but he turned his attention from her.

'What news of Imladris?' he asked Throndaer, who began to speak (in Elvish) about what Cori assumed to be his travels – she might not know Elvish, but she knew enough about the Middle-Earth universe to know Imladris was the Elvish name for Rivendell.

'You'd do well to keep your manners,' Legolas warned her quietly, 'The King does not take lightly even to minor insults,'

'I don't recall insulting him,' Cori told Legolas, cutting off a piece of meat, 'What is this?'

'Salted beef, from Esgorath,'

'Lake-town?' Cori asked. Legolas glanced at her carefully, then nodded.

'You may not have meant to offend, but he takes most comments as an insult unless they are outright compliments,' he explained, 'Do not forget who paid for the dress you wear.'

Cori almost swore as she looked down at the dress. Legolas was right; as much as she wanted to bite back at Thranduil, she had to keep her temper in check, and that wasn't something she was used to doing. For starters, she'd never really had a foul temper before, and it was this inexperience that meant she had to be even more careful.

She put the piece of meat in her mouth and began to chew, then froze, slowly raising her eyes to look around the table. Nemirwen and Thranduil were engrossed in Throndaer's story (still being spoken in Elvish), and Legolas had turned for a refill of his cup.

As subtly as (she thought) she could, Cori spat the half-chewed piece of meat into her left hand and flicked it behind her. She'd had years of practicing the move when her father would serve lamb for dinner, so she felt confident that first and foremost, nobody had noticed, and secondly, the piece would have fallen beyond the edge of the platform.

As he set his cup down again, Legolas reached over, spearing the two pieces of meat Cori had taken and shifting them to his own plate.

'Be thankful the King didn't notice,' he told her softly. Cori pursed her lips, before spearing some sort of leafy green thing on the end of her fork. Apparently, she wasn't as subtle as she'd thought.

She forced herself to finish everything else on her plate after that, sensing that Legolas was watching her at intervals. After Throndaer had finished talking, Nemirwen began recounting something, and she, Throndaer and Thranduil began discussing something in Elvish.

'I've got to learn Elvish,' Cori sighed, finishing the last of the leafy green vegetables on her plate. Legolas had finished moments before, and an elf appeared to clear their dishes away.

'How is it you do not even speak Sindarin?' he asked. Cori shrugged.

'It's not a common form of speech where I'm from,' she replied.

'What language do you commonly speak in?'

'Lots,' Cori replied, 'We all speak English – you call it the Common Tongue – and then I learned Japanese and Maori as a child, though I can't really remember much of either,'

'Your parents never had you schooled in other languages?' Legolas asked, 'I have had a modest teaching in Quenya, and I was raised speaking Sindarin. I learned Common Speech after I'd matured,'

'Yeah, but you've had hundreds of years to learn all of those,' Cori pointed out, then realised something, 'Wait, how old _are_ you?'

Legolas looked shocked, and she realised asking his age was probably one of those etiquette things she shouldn't have asked. 'Sorry,' she muttered, 'I'm just... all the different customs and stuff, it's so unusual,'

He relaxed slightly, then hesitated. 'I am nearing six hundred and eighty-two summers,' he told her, lowering his voice, 'Nemirwen is one thousand and four, and Throndaer is one thousand, three hundred and twelve.'

'And Thranduil?' Cori had also lowered her voice.

'"The King",' Legolas corrected her, 'Is well over three thousand. Even I do not know for certain.'

'If you don't mind me asking,' Cori hesitated, 'What about your mother?'

She instantly regretted it as she saw the very minute, very quick flash of pain that crossed Legolas' face. She shook her head, 'I'm sorry, forgive me,' she began, 'I didn't know—'

'She has been dead for six hundred and eighty years,' Legolas stated, all emotion drained from his voice, and his eyes vacant, 'She was brave enough to venture near Dol Guldur, and was overcome by the spiders nesting there at the time. Her body was recovered, and set sail towards Valinor, and my father has never ventured west since, nor south.'

Cori suddenly understood why Thranduil was so cold; for him, the grief of losing his wife was probably still too close. She also felt sorry for Legolas, who was only two years old when his mother died; he'd never had a chance to properly know her, and never would. Hesitantly, she put a hand on his shoulder.

'I lost my father to cancer when I was fifteen,' she told him, 'My sister walked out three years later, and we've never heard from her since. It's been me and my mother since, and she still worries,'

She felt a dull ache in her chest, and sighed. 'She probably thinks I'm dead, now, or that I've left her as well. She's alone.'

She realised it had gone silent on the other side of the table, and both her and Legolas turned to see Thranduil and Throndaer regarding her coldly, and Nemirwen smiling slightly, as if at some joke. Cori dropped her hand from Legolas' shoulder, and it was almost as if the tension abated – only slightly, but still. Nemirwen's smile widened.

'Word of your arrival has reached Imladris, it would seem,' Thranduil remarked after what felt like an hour of stony silence, 'There are many Eldar who wish to meet the Avari who has travelled so far.'

Cori picked up her cup as he spoke, taking a few huge gulps (disguised as small sips) to give her the nerve to respond. She felt more at ease with Legolas than his father – and brother, too, apparently.

'Lord Elrond himself has expressed an interest in meeting you,' Throndaer remarked coolly, 'I should like to send him word that he will indeed be granted his wish,'

'I don't think I'm up for such a journey just yet,' Cori admitted, glancing at Nemirwen, before turning to Thranduil, 'Besides, I'm enjoying your fine hospitality far too much to want to leave in a hurry – or perhaps that's the wine talking,'

'A combination of wine and exhaustion,' Nemirwen stated, turning to her father, 'Coriel is still not well enough for a journey to Imladris yet; she heals faster than the Avari are said to, but she is still weakened. I'll not permit her to travel until she is far better-rested.'

'How long will that take?' Thranduil asked, 'She has spent nigh on two weeks in a bed already,'

'Another week, tops,' Cori replied, cutting in front of Nemirwen, 'All due respect, I know my body better than you, though your help and care has been much appreciated. With exercise and the right food, I'll be fit for a journey within a week,'

She liked the Woodland Realm, but she was starting to suspect Thranduil wanted her gone. Best to give the Elvenking his wish.


	6. Change of the Tides

**The Woodland Realm, Middle-Earth  
Iavas 41****st****, 2925**

Another night waking in a cold sweat.

Cori took deep breaths, closing her eyes and forcing her racing heart to slow. It was the second night after the dinner with Thranduil (and his children), and Nemirwen, after helping her to her rooms, had chastised her for claiming a week would be long enough.

'You barely seem to know anything about your own people, how can I trust that you know your body?' she asked. Cori had sat silently through it, wishing to be a thousand miles away. Or at least a universe away.

The other dreams were starting to fade, strangely. She still dreamed of the two stars, one with the voices of people and the strange beeping of machines, the other more silent, peaceful. But the dream of fire was slowly fading, washing away with time. She didn't feel a tingling in her arms, nor did she ever feel a burning sensation anymore, and all she could remember of the fire (not that she was trying) was just the image of flames filling her vision.

The dream of the stars was also becoming more difficult to remember, and although she felt she should know the names that belonged to the voices, especially the old woman's voice, she just couldn't remember.

Cori lay back on her pillows, breathing heavily, but she didn't feel like sleeping any more. The dream that had woken her had been an apparently symbolic dream – she was sitting in the water as a wave was pulled back out to sea, and she kept trying to grab it, keep it on the shore, but it kept slipping through her fingers, and each time it did, she was distraught.

She knew it was symbolic for something, but she just couldn't remember what.

Cori finally sighed heavily, giving up on sleep altogether, and pulled on one of the thick, heavy dresses that had been in her chest; this was one that Thranduil or Nemirwen hadn't gifted her, and it was made of a strange, somewhat scratchy material, a dark green colour that seemed to suit her. It was warm, too, which would help in the cool night air.

Mellana had walked her all over the caverns in the last few days, giving her the exercise to strengthen her body, and she had reluctantly begun eating the salted beef sent from Esgaroth. She could walk further and further each time, and sleep was coming to her later and later each night. Not only that, but she'd begun noticing things, like smells and the feel of the stairs and bridges beneath her feet. She was beginning to also see better, and hear better.

Right now, though, she felt an urgent need to go up.

Cori didn't know where she was going, but her feet seemed to have the route and destination already planned, because they led her along, up what felt like a few hundred staircases, until she finally emerged on a large, circular platform.

She recognised it instantly as the Starlight Courtyard, where she'd dined with Thranduil and his family two nights ago. The platform looked deserted now, and the table and chairs had been cleared away. Slowly, she strode to the centre of the platform, turning in a circle to see the entire world laid out around her, before she finally looked up.

She didn't recognise any constellations; that was her first thought. Her second was that there were enough stars above to light the entire world, almost as much light as darkness.

Cori sunk to her knees, and then lay down on her back, staring up at the infinitesimal amount of stars above, and closed her eyes, breathing deeply. She had the strangest experience of floating, flying up towards those stars, and she was bathed in their light – not white, as it looked at first, but yellow, blue, red, orange, purple, even pale green, and all the other colours she could imagine. She was surrounded by their light, and closed her eyes again as she felt the different heat of their lights.

And then she was floating in darkness again, suspended between two brilliantly white orbs. One of them was peaceful, not silent but with a sense of relaxation, and purpose. The other was emitting frantic, hurried sounds, and she could sense the fear emanating from it, the sadness. She decided that she didn't want to be part of that world, of sadness and fear and panic and noise. She preferred the peace, even if she _could_ sense it was the calm before the storm.

She let the peace of the second light envelop her, and the other light faded.

'Coriel?'

Cori opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was the stars, far, far above. Then she saw the Elf standing over her.

He crouched down, offering her a hand, and she took it warily. She couldn't sense any malice in him, and smiled as she recognised the pale blonde hair and icy grey eyes.

'Throndaer,'

'What are you doing up here?' he asked, helping her to her feet, 'Especially when you're not fully recovered,'

'Recovered?' Cori asked, frowning slightly, then remembered, 'Oh; well, I feel much better now.'

'I noticed,' Throndaer regarded her carefully, before looking up at the stars overhead, 'Strange, that you should find your way here without a guide. And to sleep under the stars is unusual,'

'I like the stars,' Cori told him, 'There were a lot of lights on the ground in my home, and they made it difficult to see all the stars at night. But here, there is nothing to stop me watching all night,'

Throndaer regarded her carefully for a moment, before looking back up. 'I spoke with Mithrandir, when he brought word of you to Imladris,' he stated, 'He said that you could be a descendent of another hero of your lands, a man we knew as Tolkien. That is the only reason you have held so high in my father's favour; he was a close friend to Tolkien.'

'It's said that all people on my world are kin,' Cori told him, 'So, technically, I could be,'

'Then you are not Avari,' Throndaer looked back down at her, 'Tolkien was of the race of Men; here, he did not age, and so he came to be known as the Immortal Man, but that could not lead to his descendents being Avari,'

'Beren was of the race of Men,' Cori pointed out, 'But his descendents were Elvish, if I'm not mistaken.'

Throndaer nodded slowly. 'For one who has lived apart of these lands, you are well-versed in our history,'

'The history of Middle-Earth is an interesting subject to many of my people,' Cori admitted, 'Though the stories of Tolkien never really made it to us.'

'It seems odd, that one of our greatest heroes is unwritten in your version of Middle-Earth history,' Throndaer remarked, 'But he was a good man. I knew him well, for he spent the most time here, in the Woodland Realm. Any other time, he could be found travelling all over the lands, but he would return here or to Imladris. He was a great comfort to my father in the years immediately following my mother's death. That he should have been killed so soon after was unnecessarily cruel.'

Cori placed a hand on his arm gently, feeling her heart going out to him as well. Something told her that she knew what it was to lose someone close to her, though she couldn't entirely recall who it was or when it had happened.

'Everything...' she hesitated, and he looked at her, 'Everything is uncertain. My memory isn't what it should be, I think. I keep dreaming of people, places, and there's a sense of familiarity about them, but I just can't find the names for them anymore. Like they all died, and the part of me that remembers them went with them.'

Throndaer regarded her for a moment. 'Perhaps it is an effect of the horror you experienced. Nemirwen has told me of your dream-terrors,' he told her, forestalling her comment with an open hand, 'And she has guessed that, in an attempt to forget the horror you endured before arriving here, you have simply tried to wipe it from your memory. It seems to be effective, but perhaps you also removed those people and places from your memory as well,'

Cori thought silently for a moment, as he returned to gazing at the stars. Fugue, that was what it was supposedly called, when one's memory disappeared. She could remember that, and she could remember her old job. She could remember many things, but... people, she couldn't remember most of the people she had probably known. She knew that she'd had a mother, and... her father hadn't been around for years, now, and her sister... she had a sister, somewhere. She had a group of friends, and...

Cori made a mental note to herself, to start doing memory exercises. She couldn't forget those people, the ones with the familiar faces that appeared in her dreams. She just couldn't – they were the one thing holding her to Earth, and she knew that she had to find a way back to them eventually. She couldn't forget them; she wouldn't let herself.

'You are well enough to ride?' Throndaer asked. Cori hesitated, then nodded. She felt a sense of renewal about her, as though she'd been born again or something; her entire soul and spirit felt revitalised, ready to thrive.

'Tomorrow,' Throndaer began, looking back up at the stars, 'We can ride to the resting place of Tolkien. Legolas has wanted to visit for weeks, but our father does not allow us to leave these halls alone.' He looked down at Cori, who was smiling slightly, 'We can test your strength. The place is in the north of the forest, a few hours' ride from here. Until then, you should return to your rooms and rest.'

'I think I'd feel better up here, at least for a little longer,' Cori admitted. The stars made her feel small, and somewhat insignificant, but they were still a comfort to her.

Throndaer left her after a while, and when she returned to her rooms several hours later, she no longer felt the need for sleep.

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